Warm
by EpicInTheLibrary
Summary: Even someone as insignificant as Kenny McCormick can feel happiness at Christmastime. Kenny/Kyle


The sky is a pale gray that seems intent on invading the rest of the world. The color reflects on buildings and cars and countless mounds of snow covering the ground. There's no sound, because the heavy gray disallows it. Everything is silent, still, afraid to make any movement, to defy the thick gray.

He wears a beaten, faded orange jacket with multiple obvious repairs. His shoes are worn and soaked by the snow, but he doesn't seem to care, or maybe his feet are just too numb for him to feel it. He cups his hands around his mouth and transparent moisture rises in the air, escaping from in between his fingers. He shivers, and his hands retreat into the pockets on the front of his jacket. Not like those are much protection from the biting cold anyway.

He walks slowly, feet dragging carelessly in the snow, kicking it forward aimlessly. His blue eyes wander carefully, resting on nothing for more than a few seconds. After a moment they find his worn shoes again and his breath rises once more in a hopeless sigh. He raises those blue eyes to the pale sky and they linger there, as if searching for something. But then they darken and he looks down at the cold, colorless snow before him.

He's not sure where he's going, really. Just that he doesn't have anywhere to be. So why not go walking aimlessly? It's something to do.

Downtown is usually lively, filled with people. But at this time of year, that isn't the case. Everyone's on vacation, and there's no one left to go around with. The girls are all shopping and the boys are inside playing video games.

Not him. Not Kenny. He has nothing for him at home. No warmth. No video games. Nothing except maybe a little shelter from the snow. That's why he's out walking. Even though he's freezing cold, despite the thickness of his jacket. His gloves have too many holes in them now and his shoes are practically nonexistent.

Somewhere something catches his attention, bringing him out of his worthless thoughts of self pity. He stops his aimless walking and turns his head to look at the shop window beside him. It's nothing, just a clothes shop. But what catches his eye beyond that window into the warm yellow light is a pair of gloves. Just what he needs.

Of course, he can't get them. He can't afford them. There's never enough money to go around. It all belongs to important people, people who need it first. Then, if there's any extra, it goes to the less important people. But there's no extra, there's never any extra.. Because the bigger, rich important people need so much money that there can't be any for the rest. And his family isn't big or important, so there's nothing for them.

As he stares wistfully at the gloves bathed in yellow light, one hand slightly raised towards the window, he hears a noise. Snow crunching under the weight of someone's footsteps. He instantly turns toward the sound, putting his hand down, pushing it back into the safe confines of his jacket pocket.

There's another boy, of the same age, standing at the corner not far down the street from him. The boy's clothes are in much better condition than his, he is painfully aware of that fact. He knows he can't act casually and hope that he won't notice, because now it's practically the first thing anyone would notice about him. He stands there, frozen, bathed in yellow light pouring out from behind the window holding the gloves from him. The other boy seems surprised, but quickly regains his composure and takes a few steps forward. Kenny takes a small step back, then stops himself from running away completely. His face flushes pink as he recognizes the boy, glad that he's able to pass it off as an effect of the biting cold. The other boy speaks.

"Kenny?"

"Hi, Kyle."

"What are you doing here?"

Kenny's face flushes and he looks down, his fingers nervously clenching and unclenching inside the pockets of his jacket. The other boy, Kyle, is his friend from school. But that's all, really. Just school. They do go other places, but that's usually with their other friends. Kenny and Kyle never go anywhere together, alone. In fact, Kyle doesn't seem to pay much attention to Kenny. At all. He only talks to him when the conversation focuses on him or something that has to do with him. He always tries not to dwell on this.

"Nothing, I was just walking."

Kyle looks suspiciously at Kenny's worn shoes and Kenny nervously kicks at a small pile of snow at his feet.

"What were _you_ doing here?" he asks, trying to guide the attention away from his run down clothing. It seems to work, as Kyle huffs, his breath swirling away into the sky.

"Nothing, just some shopping. For my mom," he says, rolling his eyes. "She won't stop sending me on errands ever since break started. She's just trying to keep me away from the TV."

Kenny laughs, like he's supposed to, but inside he doesn't feel like laughing at all. Everything Kyle has just said is something that he can't do. He can't go shopping all the time for _his_ mom, and he can't be kept away from a TV he doesn't have. But he doesn't mention any of this. He doesn't want to seem weak and unable to support himself. So he just laughs lightheartedly and pretends to seem happy.

Once his laughter dies down, however, it's an awkward silence. Kenny doesn't know what to say and Kyle doesn't seem to either. So it's just both of them shifting around uneasily and looking at their feet. Finally Kenny clears his throat and shuffles backwards.

"Well I ought to get home. You know, check on my family. I've been gone a long time."

"Okay, I should finish my mom's errand anyway," Kyle says quickly, sounding relieved. Kenny gives a fake smile and turns, beginning to walk away. He's only gone a few steps when he hears his name called.

"Hey, Kenny, wait-!" But he just walks faster, practically runs away from the shop window and the gloves and the boy who seems to have no time for him. Any other time he would want to stop, would want to hear anything Kyle had to say to him. But right now, all he wants is to get away from him, to leave him behind, to escape. When he finally stops, hands on his knees, trying to catch the breath rising in the air, and turns, he sees Kyle standing in front of the same window he was just standing in front of. He stares for only a second, and then he is gone around the corner.

-

It's cold. It's always cold. Always the same thing.

It's always Kenny trying to keep warm but never succeeding. A lot of the time he just spends the night without anything to warm him, just lets the cold overwhelm him and he gets to sleep that way. He always wakes up, though. Always. It's always the same thing. It's a curse.

But now it's really cold. He's never felt anything like this before. It's still the same cold as before, still the snow and the wind and the darkness, but this time it feels like the cold is coming from _him_, from inside _him_. He curls up tighter on the park bench, pulling his numb fingers closer to his chest where it should be warmest. But it does nothing to help. All he feels is a deep, dark, cold emptiness.

He knows this feeling. He knows it like the back of his hand. He knows loneliness so well it might as well be his closest friend. Judging by his current situation, it probably is.

He pulls his knees in over his arms in a futile attempt to warm up. His breath rises in the air again, like always. Always always always. Always is a lonely word. It describes how he always feels, which is cold and alone.

He's always lonely.

He sniffs and wipes his nose on his filthy jacket sleeve. He'll probably get sick, lying around in the snow and wiping his nose on his filthy clothing like this. He doesn't care. No matter what happens to him, no matter if he gets sick or sleeps in the middle of the snow, he'll wake up every morning. Always.

He sniffs and wipes his nose again. He's so numb. It's so cold. He closes his eyes and tries to shut out these thoughts. He tries to think of something good, something warm.

He thinks of Kyle.

Soon his breathing slows and evens and he's sleeping peacefully- at least as peacefully as he can while slowly freezing to death. It's not like it matters; he'll just wake up again in the morning. He always does.

He slips into oblivion with a slight smile warming his lips.

-

When Kenny wakes up it's still cold. But it's always cold in South Park. The small town is rarely seen without its signature cover of snow. Despite his familiarity with the frozen white, Kenny shivers. Just because he's used to it doesn't mean it's not cold. No. It's definitely still cold.

He shivers again and slowly lifts his body off the park bench. His joints creak and snap painfully in protest and a soreness aches through his body, but Kenny does his best to shrug it off. He always feels like this when he wakes up. It's nothing new.

When he sits up he feels something slip off of his chest and fall into his lap. Confused as to what it might be, he looks down to find out. Surprise overcomes him and he reaches into his lap to pull up the object and examine it more closely.

It's a pair of gloves. The pair of gloves he was staring at through the window last night. They feel incredibly soft in his fingers- not to mention warm. Still confused, he looks around, thinking that maybe someone accidently dropped them and want them back, because surely they can't be for _him. _They're too nice. Too warm. Too soft. But no one is around; the park is silent and still. Kenny turns his attention back to the gloves in his hands. Cautiously, hesitantly, he begins to pull one on. His fingers hit something hard that definitely doesn't belong inside.

He curiously pulls it out and inspects it. It's a folded piece of paper. He opens it, slowly, with his numb fingers. There's writing on the inside, and he reads it quickly.

_Kenny- Merry Christmas. I know it's early, but you seemed like you needed something a little early._

It's signed with a heart, no name. Kenny doesn't need a name. He knows who it is.

He hugs the note and the gloves close to his chest, as if they're his life. They feel like it to him. Imaginary warmth spreads through his body, starting from his heart. It doesn't do anything against the cold, but this warmth wasn't meant to. This warms his heart, makes him happy. And happiness is something he hasn't felt in a long time. This is something special.

He pushes his hands back away from his chest and slowly pulls one of the gloves on. It feels soft and warm on his palm and seems to hug his fingers in a protective embrace, shunning the cold. He takes the other one and slips it on the other hand. Feeling begins to return to his fingers and he sighs happily, breath rising in the air, as always. He's so uplifted that he's practically skipping as he leaves the park; there's something he needs to do.

-

It's the streets again. But this time it isn't downtown. No. This time houses line the streets, acting as guardians, sheltering families that reside within their walls. But Kenny's not thinking of any of these families. Only one person.

It's still cold, of course, but he doesn't mind as much as yesterday. He could sing right now, he's so happy. He reaches a house and turns down the walkway to the front door. He knows it might be a little early, but he can't wait. He reaches the front door and knocks, three times.

Kenny hears someone yell something, maybe a small child, and then he hears someone else, someone that sounds older, maybe. Maybe as old as him. His heart swells.

Footsteps approach the door from inside and a lock turns. The door swings open, revealing a tired looking teen with messy red hair that falls haphazardly over his brilliant green eyes. He's rubbing his eye and yawning as he swings the door wide open. He looks like he's just woken up.

Kenny has no hesitation in jumping forward, wrapping his arms around the boy's thin frame, and hugging him as tightly as he can. He buries his face into the other's chest, hugging him even more tightly. The other boy gives a sharp gasp, but then relaxes when he realizes. He returns the gesture, wrapping his arms around Kenny, but not hugging him nearly as tightly as Kenny is him.

He doesn't want it to ever end, but eventually he loosens his hold on the other boy and leans away from his chest. Kyle takes his arms away and Kenny takes a step back, looking up into the other's face. Kyle is smiling down at him, and opens his mouth. Before he can say anything, however, Kenny abruptly shoots out his right arm, opening his gloved hand and revealing a small folded piece of paper.

Kyle looks down at it, eyebrows creasing, until he realizes what it is. His gaze softens and looks back at Kenny's face, smiling lightly. Kenny's expression is one of confusion and he opens his mouth to voice his thoughts.

"Kyle, you don't celebrate Christmas."

Kyle's smile becomes more visible. "That doesn't mean you don't."

Kenny closes the distance between the two and hugs the other boy tightly again. True, he doesn't want to seem weak and unable to support himself, but this has made him truly happy, which seldom happens. It also tells him that maybe Kyle does care, if not a little. This increases his happiness tenfold, just the thought that Kyle might care. His heart soars.

"Thank you, Kyle," he whispers into the boy's chest. "You don't know how much this means to me."

Kenny doesn't think he's ever said something like that to _anyone_, opened his feelings to _anyone,_ not even his mom. Well, that's not really saying much, because he doesn't really have a close relationship with either of his parents. But this is something that never happens, something special. This is a new feeling, one that he's not too familiar with, but one that he gets whenever he thinks of Kyle. And now it's doubled. Maybe even tripled.

Kenny thinks that maybe he's in love with Kyle.


End file.
